


A Memory or Two

by castielsass



Series: Hunters [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gore, M/M, dark au, disabled joel, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2862146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsass/pseuds/castielsass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>between 'hunters' and 'teeth'<br/>tws: mentions of child abuse, violence, gore, mentions of alcoholism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Memory or Two

The blood flaked on his wrist, sticking the creases of skin together as Michael curved his knife neatly. A gummy sound of membranes separating made him press his lips together, squinting his eyes as a burst of blood splashed on his glasses. The second eye popped out much more easily than the first, with a wet squish that made his teeth grit together. Michael had never liked eyes much, but they were a favourite of Gavin’s. He severed the trailing nerves, neatly wicking them to the pink curve of the back, and wiped off the blood before putting them in a small jewellery box. They’d leak and dry out fast so he had to be quick. 

The safe house was a small apartment in the city, close to the roof and dimly lit. Geoff and Griffon had bought it in small installments in cash from a secretive friend Gavin knew only as Ryan, and that wasn’t even his real first name. The deed never changed name. Geoff and Griffon had been saving since Gavin was a teenager and first revealed his impulses. It was his alternative to a college fund. Ryan visited with groceries and necessities when the heat was high, and all the lads got on particularly well with him. All Ryan ever asked for these trips was the occasional murder. Ryan would kindly lead the intended to the apartment and leave, thanking the lads for their work.  
It was tiny, a one-bedroom with a bathroom so small Gavin could touch any two walls at the same time standing in the middle of the room. Ray had taken to it quickly, setting up camp in the living room on the tiny tv. Ryan had brought over an old xBox and some game discs and abruptly dropped them when Ray stood and hugged him tightly. Although cracked, and old, and unable to connect to the internet obviously, the xBox was their only real means of entertainment. Ryan brought over blankets, and a sleeping bag and Ray slept in the tiny living room under mounds of blankets. He spent most of his time playing games, his eyes glassy and sad.  
Gavin spruced the place up as best he could, cleaning and making the bed with fresh linen whenever possible. Michael was out now, careful as ever, and Ray hadn’t moved from the couch in three hours. Gavin poured bleach down the toilet and plugholes of the sink and shower, and left it at that. He moved into the kitchen and began to wash dishes until the door opened quietly. His heart jumped painfully as he peered around the corner, and the sight of Michael was a pleasant calm. Michael spotted him and followed him into the small kitchen, smiling. His hand twitched upward, and a black box glinted dully in the dim light. Gavin shivered, his hoodie falling loose around his shoulders as he took the gift. He popped it open and the muted shine of a discoloured eye caught his attention.  
“Oh, Michael!”  
One eye rolled to the bottom edge of the box while the other merely glinted, stuck to the velvet by leaking fluid. Gavin gently turned the loose one, the brown iris catching the light prettily. His fingers squeezed lightly, reflexively, teasing the spring of membrane.  
“They’re so lovely, boy,” Gavin said, his voice caught harshly in his throat.  
“He looked at you,” Michael muttered. Gavin made a curious noise. “When we were in the mall. He kept staring at you, and first I thought it was ‘cause he recognised you, but that wasn’t it. There wasn't anything in his eyes, no fear. So I put it there,” Michael shrugged, turning. Gavin shut the box quickly and threw his arms around Michael, planting a kiss to his jaw.  
“Thank you, they’re so lovely.”

Ray sank into the sofa, his thighs trembling a little from chill and anxiety. Michael sat on the arm of the sofa, looking at him.  
“What’s up?”  
Ray turns his lips down and shrugged, playing on. Michael pressed him, staring him down.  
“Miss Joel,” he said quietly after a long pause.  
“Why don’t we go see him?” Michael offered. Ray stared at him, eyes dull in the flickering light from the tv.  
“Maybe I will,” he said. 

It was the smell that hit him before anything else, it was so pervasive it woke him from a deep sleep. That deep dark scent of jasmine and smoke crept around the walls of his bedroom and Joel woke as if from a nightmare, pulling himself upward to sit on the edge of his bed, his breath coming hard and fast. There was a slow, creeping noise like the worn toe of a familiar shoe being rubbed against the wooden floor. Joel covered his eyes, the thin blanket falling from his naked waist to cover his amputation scar. It didn’t matter, the scent grew softer, but stronger as the noise slipped closer to him. The bed dipped gently. A hand, achingly familiar, dark and soft twined around his wrist and eased his fingers away from his eyes. Ray hushed Joel as he made a broken noise, his hand softly pressing against his chest and pushing him to lie on the bed. Ray lay beside him, slipping underneath his arm in the hollow of Joel’s hip and curved to his torso in the spot he fit best. Joel stared at the ceiling, the shadow of Ray’s hair moving gently over it until his head settled in the crook of Joel’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. 

Hours later, Joel awoke slow and foggy. He lifted his nose from Ray’s hair, his arms wrapped around the smaller, skinnier body and there was a few blissful moments before he remembered. He stiffened, pulling away slowly, but Ray woke and his hand slid up, gripping Joel’s throat tightly.  
“Did I ever tell you about my dad?” Ray asked, his voice a sheer, soft whisper like silk. Joel shook his head, the stubble on his chin rasping pleasantly over Ray’s hair.  
“He was terrible,” Ray said with a soft laugh. “God, he just… He was awful. It was like he hated me, but it was worse because he was supposed to love me. He was drunk and high all the time, and…”  
“Did he hit you?” Joel whispered, his voice hoarse.  
“Yeah, of course,” Ray said, brushing it off. “That wasn’t always the worst part, though. Sometimes, it was when he was drunk, and nice, that was the worst. Because I’d see him, almost passed out on the sofa stinking of vomit and alcohol, and he’d see me, and...he’d smile, like he was happy to see me, like he loved me, and he was so nice to me then sometimes, always trying to buy me things and telling me how good I was. But then he could turn on a dime, and scream at me, break things and beat me, it just.... I love you, Joel. You’re nothing like him.”  
Joel passed a few moments stroking his big hand down Ray’s small back, the nubs of his spine pressing through the skin.  
“Are you sorry for what you did? To anyone, to me?” Joel asked.  
“I’ll always be sorry for what I did to you,” Ray whispered, and the lie was so sweet in Joel’s ears that he pressed his mouth to Ray’s lips, easing kisses against him until he twined his fingers in Joel’s hair, his whole body small and warm and pressing against Joel’s, slotting in neatly to him.  
“You need to go,” Joel whispered when the sun rose slow in the sky. The soft hazy light spread like butter through the curtains. Ray pressed his hand to Joel’s chest, and his forehead to Joel’s. Joel kissed him once, brief, but intense, and Ray pulled away to slip his clothes back on and escape before the rest of the world woke up. Joel turned his head back into the pillow, soaking up the remaining scent of jasmine and sweat and smoke.


End file.
